Reckoner
by proantagonist
Summary: From his cell in the Asgardian dungeons, Loki reflects upon a childhood incident he fears might have triggered the downward spiral of his fate. And it's not just him—Thor's fortunes have also suffered since that day, but convincing him that they're both ensnared in a hopeless trap is easier said than done.
1. Chapter 1

**Summary**: From his cell in the Asgardian dungeons, Loki reflects upon a childhood incident he fears might have triggered the downward spiral of his fate. And it's not just him—Thor's fortunes have also suffered since that day, but convincing him that they're both ensnared in a hopeless trap is easier said than done.

**Notes**: Parts of this story are set during Thor and Loki's childhood. They are the human equivalent of 6-8 years old in these scenes. Translate that as you will into Æsir years. One scene is a result of a very vivid and frightening dream I had as a child, the memory of which has never left me. You'll likely see that scene in the next chapter. Thank you to portraitoftheoddity for the beta read.

* * *

Prelude

A devious thing, the mind. The tricks it could play on the unsuspecting were impressive indeed, for the victim rarely saw the end coming. Predictable as the dawn, the victim would look for an external source of strife rather than questioning anything rooted within. These seeds of deception were simple enough to plant for those who possessed the talent.

After all, what else in the Nine Realms was worthier of trust than one's own mind, hopes, memories, and intentions?

Loki had long since made this fatal misconception his playground.

* * *

Chapter 1

Bathed in the never-changing light of his prison cell, Loki learned to ascertain the time and date using senses other than his vision.

The smell of apple blossoms was all but undetectable in the cavernous depths of the dungeons where nothing save for discontentment grew, but Loki knew winter had finally come to an end the moment he caught the fleeting edges of the scent clinging to the cape of a passing guard. Immediately, he rose from his bed with a smile that inspired the guards to whisper words of warning to their captain.

Amusement bubbled up in Loki's throat as he watched them react to his sudden movements. Whatever was the matter with them? Didn't they realize a celebration was at hand? Only a few weeks now.

He waited, listened, and kept tally in his mind with meticulous precision. After the one hundredth and twenty-second shift change of the guards, he heard it—or thought he did. To be certain, he stood in the direct center of his cell and strained his ears against the mundane sounds of the dungeons—past the endlessly pacing footfalls of the guards, the crackle of the fire pits, and the maddening drone of the energy barrier that kept him caged.

The dungeons were so far underground that perhaps it was only at the encouragement of his imagination that he recognized the sound of feasting and celebration. He couldn't decide if the realization filled him with satisfaction or grief.

He laughed because that was much easier to endure than anything else—laughed so hard that it bent him over at the waist, and the guards stared and whispered. That, too, was simply _hilarious_, and yet his amusement soon wore thin. He had been held prisoner here for close to a year now, and the cruel twists and turns of irony could only afford him so much entertainment before they knotted his insides into a hollow, aching want instead.

When his mood took a downward turn, Loki pressed his lips together until his laughter was only a painful shake of the chest. He clamped his hands over his ears, but the sound of Asgard's mindless masses feasting continued to echo in his skull.

It went on for hours and hours, and he huddled in his bed throughout the long cold of the night, absolutely dazed by how happy the lot of them sounded.

Eventually the guards became quiet and reserved, and Loki knew it must be close to dawn. He wondered if anyone would come today to pay their respects to the dead. His answer came four lonely hours later.

Frigga appeared at the entrance of his cell, wearing a gown of pale green silk that smelled of late springtime in her gardens. Loki's suspicions about the date were confirmed by the haunted look on her face. Frigga had long since mastered the art of appearing calm when others might have fallen prey to shameful displays of emotion. But for Loki, she had always given him a window to see into the reality of her thoughts. She allowed him to pay witness to both her grief and pleasure at the sight of him.

As for Loki, he was somewhat stunned as a guard opened the energy barrier of his cell and allowed Frigga to step inside. A pair of servants brought in a second chair and set a tray of tea and scones on the table. Once they exited the cell, the guard reactivated the energy barrier, closing them in again.

Frigga had visited him before, of course, but not like this. Never in flesh and blood. Despite the finality of the All-Father's decree that Loki would never again lay eyes upon his mother, she had found ways to see him, though always in the form of an illusion. Somehow she'd managed to bribe her way into Asgard's dungeons.

"My queen," Loki said, inclining his head as if he were receiving a guest into his kingdom. "To what do I owe this distinguished honor?"

As if he didn't already know.

Frigga smiled, indulging his little game. Their visits often started out this way—with the whisper of happier times when bitterness did not taint the meaning behind every word. "I would come more often," she said, "if you would have me. Ever have I treasured our time together."

Strange that in his youth, he had never once noticed what a gifted liar she was.

"Why, you look pale, my queen," Loki said. "Are you unwell?"

Sensing the biting edge to the question, Frigga gazed at him with equal parts patience and weariness. "I am in perfect health. Thank you for asking."

"Well, then there must be something else on your mind that casts this shadow of grief upon your countenance." The cruelest twitch of a smile tugged at Loki's mouth before he disciplined it, replacing it with a fabricated look of concern. "Oh, I must beg your pardon. How insensitive of me not to remember that you lost your youngest son two years ago this very day. Or was it yesterday?" The smile resurfaced, no longer willing to remain hidden. "The glare of artificial light does make it rather difficult to determine the hour. However are you holding up in your time of grief?"

Frigga flinched. And then with impeccable composure, she said, "Well enough."

"I would imagine so," Loki said, his face practically aching under the strain of his grin. "There was a celebration in memory of his life, was there not? Or does the Æsir tradition of marking a royal death with an annual feast not apply to those whose names have been carved out of the family tree?"

"There was no feast, Loki," Frigga said quietly, "for you are not dead."

Her reply was humorous for a number of reasons, and so he laughed. "Oh, but I heard the festivities echoing above me long into the night—the shrieks of laughter and sounds of meat gnawed straight from the bones of beasts. What a fine celebration it must have been to provoke such elation. It must comfort you all to know I'm safely entombed beneath your feet, rotting slowly away."

"If that is what you heard, then your mind has played a trick upon you," Frigga said. "I would hardly say this is the first time you've imagined something and deemed it truth."

Loki lifted his eyebrows. "Oh, indeed. I recall once imagining my parents would never seek to deceive and use me. What a fine joke I played on myself."

"My son." Frigga's voice was unusually weary. "Not today, I beg you. I will come again tomorrow and allow you to unleash your anger upon me in the hopes that it will burn itself out in time. But just this once, will you grant me a pleasant visit? My child has returned to me from death, and today I want to celebrate that." She reached out a hand, her eyes pleading with him to offer his in kind.

Loki weighed this request against the black pit of his anger and decided that with a little twist of creativity, both could be satiated at once.

"As you wish," he said at last. His hand moved to take hers, and he lifted it to his mouth to bestow a kiss upon the soft, fragrant skin. "We all need to lie to ourselves upon occasion. I can certainly sympathize with that."

* * *

They sat and took tea together as mother and son, acting as though they were in the comfort of a palace sitting room rather than the shame of the dungeons. Frigga watched with fondness as Loki nibbled on the end of a scone and carefully dabbed his lips with a napkin, displaying the fine manners she'd drilled into him as a boy.

"You are eating well?" Frigga asked.

"Not at all," Loki replied—but then winked at her, for she had arranged for fine cuisine to be delivered to him from the very first day of his imprisonment. He was in far better physical condition than he had been upon his arrival to Asgard, when it was all he could do to keep his chin held at a proud angle while the masses gathered to watch him march to the palace in chains. Loki's wink to his mother was an acknowledgement of their little secret.

Frigga understood and replied only with a soft, wistful look that said _you're welcome_. It was a memory of days long gone, when they would have entire conversations using facial expressions alone. Now, they spoke quietly, keeping to shallow subjects and glossing over the hurt and bitterness that lurked just beneath the surface.

With painstaking attention to detail, Loki gave Frigga exactly what she had asked for—a peaceful visit with her resurrected son. He behaved like a prince, polite and respectful, and found his reward in the knowledge that each passing moment of his performance only increased her grief. To see the ghost of the beloved son she lost could not be any easier than looking upon the monster he'd become.

Loki watched her reaction with a hungry smile, and she smiled sadly back, knowing very well what he was doing but choosing not to react to it.

"I miss you, Loki," she said. "At times, I miss you so much, I feel as though part of my heart has been ripped away, and I will never be whole again."

Something like loneliness stabbed at Loki's gut, and he was almost worn down enough from his imprisonment to fall victim to it. Though his anger gave him the strength to dismiss the sentiment, he offered no reply to it—merely sipped his tea and stared at the wall.

"No matter how hard you test the limits of my love," Frigga said, "you will not find the end of it. I will hold on until you are sufficiently convinced of its strength and endurance."

Loki sucked in his cheeks as he fiddled with his teacup, quickly losing patience with this charade. "Is that what you believe this is about? How childish you seem to think me."

Frigga shook her head. "As a child, you were bright and happy. Do you remember those days at all? I've found myself reflecting upon them quite often of late, and though I've tried to pinpoint the exact moment everything changed, I cannot put my finger on it. Loki, my darling, when did you begin to slip away from us?"

Though Loki opened his mouth to offer reply, the words died on his lips when he realized he did not know the answer.

Her words were true enough. He was happy in the early days of his youth—for a time, at least, as those ignorant to the truth often are. The only reason his current unhappiness ran so painfully deep was because he had something shining and wonderful to compare it to. Though there were many instances he felt demonstrated the failings of his adoptive family, when was the exact moment the bright memory of his childhood began to tarnish?

He fell to silent contemplation, wondering.

* * *

When Loki was a boy, his favorite place in all the Nine Realms was his father's right knee.

After supper each night, he and Thor would race each other through the golden palace corridors to see who could reach the All-Father's study first. There was an important prize at stake—the favored position upon Odin's right knee, for everyone knew the left was second best.

The young brothers paid little heed to anything that got in their way, be it person, place, or thing. Thor's legs were longer, but Loki was fast enough to keep equal pace with him, particularly after the second helping of dessert he'd encouraged Thor to eat at supper. Despite the fierce competition between them, they laughed as they ran, full to bursting with bright-eyed excitement.

"Watch it!" Loki cried, for an unwise scullery maid had ventured into their path, a tray stacked high with tarnished silver goblets in her hands.

Loki managed to skirt around her, but Thor's second helping of dessert had affected his agility. Though he tried his best to stop, his forward momentum worked against him, sending him skidding toward the wide-eyed maid, who would be sure not to take this path again in the hours neighboring the boy's suppertime. Thor contorted his body at the very last second and avoided a collision, but the effort sent him sprawling gracelessly down the hall on the tips of his toes, arms moving in wild circles as he struggled to reestablish his balance.

Loki laughed at this foolish display but soon stopped when he realized Thor had already recovered and darted off toward the prize. Loki followed after, pushing his pace to the limits to catch up. Too late, however, for Thor was the first to cross the finish line.

Odin's study was a considerable distance from the great hall where they ate supper at his side, yet no matter how fast the boys ran, their father always beat them. He would be sitting there at his desk, with his one good eye twinkling and his mouth set into a knowing smirk. He never explained how he always arrived first but patiently listened to their questions on the matter should they wish to wager a guess.

"You must have a secret passage," Thor said as he attempted to mount his father's right knee. He had beaten Loki to the door by only a few seconds, yet smiled at his younger brother as if ten full minutes separated their arrival times.

However, it was Loki that Odin reached for first. After seating his youngest on his right knee, Odin opened his arms to Thor to take him onto his left. Their toes grazed the floor, but neither cared that they were almost too big to sit here at all. Loki tried not to look too pleased, and Thor only appeared slightly begrudging as he smirked back, for they both knew who had really won the race. Despite their nightly competition, Odin had never once rewarded the champion with preferential treatment. He would give Thor the favored position one night and then award it to Loki the next, providing them equal attention in turn—yet this did nothing to dissuade the boys from competing. Likewise, Odin did nothing to discourage it.

"A secret passage?" Odin said, acknowledging Thor's guess. "Perhaps, though not one made of mortar and stone."

Loki's eyes lit up, for he suspected Odin spoke of magic. "Will you teach me, father?"

"And me," Thor added, though only because Loki had asked for it.

Odin laughed at this, for there was little that gave him more pleasure than the attentiveness of his boys. In truth, the brothers had worshiped the old king in those days, neither of their young minds yet cognizant of Odin's faults. To them, their father was a shining example of perfection, embodying everything they wanted to be when they grew up.

It was their nightly tradition that Odin would tell them a story before sending them off to embark upon adventures in their dreams. Some of these bedtime stories were new, and some were so familiar that Loki could recite the words from memory. Tonight's story was among his very favorites, for it frightened him into shivers whenever he heard it. It was the story of the Norns.

"There are many Norns throughout the Realms, both good and evil," Odin said as he opened up a leather-bound book that rested upon the desk before them, "though the three most important by far are Urðr, Verðandi, and—"

"Skuld," Loki supplied.

"That's right," Odin said. "And do you remember why these three are of particular importance?"

The brothers watched the illustrations in Odin's book stretch and move across the pages, drawn in lines of real gold and granted life with an enchantment. Displayed there were three women of varying age, the younger ones busying themselves with a length of thread while the older woman poured a jar of water on the roots of an ash tree.

Loki's little fingers reached to explore the empty spaces between the branches. "They keep Yggdrasil alive."

"But father," Thor said. "You told us once Yggdrasil is not an actual tree. How can it have roots that require water?"

"It's a _story_," Loki said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "You're supposed to pretend."

"Urðr represents that which has already happened," Odin said, tapping the image of the Norn with the jar of water. Moving on to the two women with the length of thread, he added, "Verðandi signifies the present and Skuld, what is yet to be. Be cautious in doubting their existence, my sons, for they are the weavers of fate and destiny."

Thor found this idea rather humorous, and he laughed as he stretched his toes to the ground and got to his feet. He could only sit still for so long, particularly on a night when he was relegated to his father's left knee instead of the right. He gazed longingly up at Odin's wall of weapons—legendary swords and battleaxes from wars long past. "So it's up to them if I am to become a great warrior? If I pay them tribute and earn their favor, I could be the greatest that ever lived."

Loki swallowed and looked to his father for the answer. Odin had implied that these three beings might not be mere myth. If Thor could ask for such things from the Norns, why not Loki as well?

Odin chuckled at their eager expressions. "I was near your age when I asked my father that very question, though he never did give me a direct answer. There are some who believe a Norn comes to visit each person at some point in their life and speak to them their destiny. As I said before, there are many Norns—not only the three who attend Yggdrasil's roots. It could be an elderly woman begging for coins in the marketplace or perhaps the scullery maid you terrorized on your race to my study this very evening."

Thor and Loki exchanged a look of wide-eyed panic. How had their father known about that? When they looked back at Odin, they tried to hold back their laughter so as not to reveal their guilt.

Loki shivered as he grinned, for this was his favorite part of the story. The very idea of someone speaking out his destiny both frightened and excited him. "Has a Norn ever visited you, father?"

"If so, I have no recollection of it," Odin said. "There are many versions of the story. Some say the Norns appear only to newborn children, who are too young to remember the prophecy, though in their hearts they forever know. Others suggest they visit older children who have knowingly committed their first sin, for that is when their fate has been set in stone."

"Once," Thor said, turning his attention to Loki, "I heard Volstagg say there was a Norn amongst the vagrants that live by the Southern Wall. She'll tell anyone their future for a price. I heard she once told one of the Einherjar his baby would die, and it stopped breathing that very night."

"That's ridiculous," Loki said. "She probably snuck into the window and smothered the baby with a pillow." And yet, even as he dismissed the idea, the seed of curiosity took root in his mind.

Odin made a sound of disapproval deep within his throat. "Is Volstagg the one telling this story or am I?"

"You are, father," the brothers intoned in unison and settled in to hear the rest.

* * *

"Mother," Loki said some time later as Frigga bestowed a full week's worth of goodnight kisses upon his head. "Is it true that fate is already decided? That all the good and bad that will ever be is already known?"

Frigga smiled as she snuggled her youngest son against her warmth, tucking his head safely beneath her chin. Her heartbeat thrummed steady and strong in his ear. "Mmm, your father has been telling you scary stories again, hasn't he? I shall have to speak to him about that."

"I'm not _afraid_," Loki protested, his eyes darting to Thor's face to make certain he was listening.

After a final kiss that was so full of love, Loki began to squirm in protest, Frigga finally allowed him to escape. She then stretched out her arms to Thor, who had already declined her first invitation, making it known he felt too grown up to submit to kisses before bedtime. With a sigh, Thor allowed his mother to peck him on the cheek but wriggled away before she could smother him with more.

Loki frowned as he watched them, for Frigga hadn't answered his question. "What about the Norns?" he asked. "Do you believe they exist?"

"I thought it was just a _story_?" Thor teased. "Come on. I'll race you to the nursery. First in bed wins."

Loki opened his mouth to protest but could only sputter in exasperation as he watched his older brother's shadow disappear down the hall. "That's not fair! Thor, _wait_." Loki looked to his mother briefly, eager to hear her response but not as much as he longed to win a race against his brother.

His feet were already carrying him to the doorway of Frigga's chambers by the time he heard her voice call after them, "Boys, no running in the palace!"

Too late.

Odin wasn't the only one with a secret passageway. Though Thor had a head start on him, Loki had planned for this moment in advance. He made a sharp turn at the mouth of the western wing, veering away from their normal pathway and choosing instead to cut through the servant's corridors. It was a place strictly off limits to the brothers, but this was a matter of great importance.

The servants he passed shouted at him to stop and slow down, but Loki only grinned at the sound of crashes and protests left in his wake. This was his moment of victory, and nothing could diminish that. Thor had beaten him to bed for the very last time.

The brothers had roomed together in the nursery from the very early days of their childhood, guarded closely by their nanny, Hellevi, a woman in possession of considerable girth but very little in the way of patience. Loki slowed his pace only long enough to tiptoe past Hellevi's open door, which was positioned just to the left of the nursery, and then he hurried inside, absolutely delighted to discover he was the first to arrive.

Loki threw himself onto the bed, landing in a breathless heap upon his back. He grinned at the vaulted ceiling. Light rippled and danced there, a reflection of the outside channel of water that flowed beneath their window. Frigga would sometimes cast illusions for them there upon the water's reflection, using her seiðr to paint schools of fish in a blazing rainbow of colors. Loki stretched his fingers up toward the light and imagined them swimming there.

"You _cheated_," Thor said when he appeared in the doorway, his cheeks bright red from exertion.

Loki sat up in bed and wiped his overheated forehead on his sleeve. "Prove it. Besides, you didn't name any rules at the start. You said first in bed wins, and so that means I won."

"Very well," Thor said as he stooped to unlace his boots, "but don't forget who won earlier, or who will win tomorrow once I tell father you cut through the servant's corridor. Take your shoes off. I won't have you kicking me with those all night."

"Yes, mother," Loki sang sweetly in reply.

Seconds later, Thor gasped and threw his left boot at his brother at the same moment Loki's right shoe struck Thor in the shoulder.

By the time the boys finally settled down together in bed, they both bore one or two more bruises than they did when they entered the room, but that didn't stop them from huddling together for warmth. Hellevi often kept the windows open, claiming fresh air was good for them, and the nursery was often freezing as a result. There were two beds positioned on opposite walls, but Loki always slept with Thor in his. It was closer to the window, and Loki liked to stare up at the stars and write his name in them while his brother drooled away into the pillows beside him.

"Don't fall asleep yet," Loki whispered after Thor blew out the candle and slipped beneath the covers. "My mind is spinning in circles and won't slow down."

"I didn't hit you _that_ hard with my shoe," Thor said. "Stop carrying on so."

"Do you think Volstagg would tell us more about the Norn at the Southern Wall?" Loki asked. "I want to go see her."

Thor laughed. "Why? So she can sneak into our room and smother us to death with our pillows?" He yanked the pillow out from beneath Loki's head. "Shall we stage a reenactment?"

"I'm serious," Loki sputtered, pushing the pillow out of his face. "What if she could tell us our future? Aren't you curious at all? If you truly are meant to be the greatest warrior in all the Nine Realms, wouldn't you want to know?"

Thor fell silent for a long moment but eventually took the bait. "And how would we get to the Southern Wall? You know we can't sneak off alone, and Heimdall is probably eavesdropping on our conversation at this very moment."

"Hellevi is bathing just on the other side of that wall over there," Loki pointed out. "No one wants to eavesdrop on _that_. Come on, brother. If you agree, I can come up with a plan to get us there and back again with no one the wiser. Aren't you the one always complaining that we never get to go on an adventure?"

"And aren't you the one always complaining about your sore feet the moment we leave the palace?" Thor countered. "Why the sudden interest in your future?"

Loki put his pillow back in place beneath him and punched it a few times until the shape was just right. He was pleased that Thor couldn't see his burning cheeks in the darkness. "I'm curious. Aren't you?"

Together they settled back and watched the reflection of the water ripple on the ceiling. Loki held his breath, pretending he was underwater, waiting for Thor to pull him above the surface again.

"I suppose I might be," Thor said after giving the matter some thought. He rolled onto his side and threw an arm around his little brother. "Go to sleep. We can talk more about it in the morning."

But Loki only shook his head, his eyes still fixated on the ceiling. "You sleep. I must lie awake and devise a brilliant plan."

"Aren't you worried about getting in trouble?" Thor asked. "Father will be furious when he finds out. He will lock us up in the dungeons and throw away the key."

"Well, then," Loki replied, "we must be very careful not to get caught."

* * *

"Loki?" Frigga said, her voice a quiet reminder of the present. "Where did your thoughts slip away to just now? You look as though you've seen a ghost."

Loki blinked and refocused his attention on her. The harsh lighting of the dungeons made the lines on her face appear pronounced, and he let his gaze fall away again before he allowed himself to admit she was growing older. A hasty sip of tea revealed that it had grown cold through inattention. Though he might have rewarmed it with his seiðr, he set the cup aside instead, feeling suddenly agitated.

"I think I might know the answer to your question," Loki said.

Frigga's brow furrowed. "You'll have to refresh my memory. To which question do you refer?"

"You inquired after the exact moment everything changed. You wanted to know when I began to slip away." Loki looked at her sharply, his eyes a blazing green in the artificial light. "Though are you quite certain you want to know the answer?"

A tiny muscle twitched in Frigga's right cheek as she gazed back at him, but her voice was steady as she said, "I'm listening."

"It started as most tragedies do," Loki said, "with an adventure doomed to fail before it ever began."

* * *

To be continued


	2. Chapter 2

Whenever Loki found occasion to tell a story, he took particular care in crafting the beginning.

It was important to establish normalcy, for stories did not begin with the introduction of conflict. No, they dawned with a cloudless morning and a carefree mind—with harmless intentions and the anticipation of a day every bit as ordinary and predictable as the last.

For without the acknowledgement of innocence, the listener would not feel the empty place deep inside upon registering its loss. Without the warmth of that cheerful, sunny morning, the finger of fear would not feel quite as chilling as it slipped down the listener's back.

The proper manipulation of perspective and emotional response was the enemy few saw coming, and therefore, among Loki's favorite tricks.

* * *

Chapter 2

The day the All-Father stopped loving Loki dawned bright and beautiful. A perfect day for an adventure.

However, there were matters Loki needed to attend to before the journey could begin, the first of which was extracting his slumbering brother from bed. But waking Thor was not a matter to undergo without care, preparation, or the proper footwear should his older brother decide to take chase. Loki had strategically placed a few marbles on the floor just in case. One could never be too cautious.

Loki leaned over his brother's sleeping form and took a moment to simply marvel over the size of the drool stain on the pillow. It was a miracle Thor had not drowned them both in the night. Loki had woken up half smothered under the weight of his brother's arm, with his saliva-dampened hair matted to one side of his head. Thor was now on his back with his face turned to the side, his limbs sprawled to the far reaches of the mattress.

It was unusual for Loki to be the first out of bed, for he loved to read and indulge in reveries long into the night and was nearly impossible to wake the following morning. However, he had already washed, dressed, and combed his hair. He decided with some disappointment that Thor must be on the threshold of yet another growth spurt and was therefore in need of more rest. Even though Loki was younger, the brothers were around the same height, but recently Thor had gained considerable ground. Perhaps waking him at once would put an end to this growth spurt nonsense.

"Thor," Loki said, almost too soft to be heard. "Wake up."

No response.

Loki smiled, for it was apparent he would have to resort to more drastic measures, which was one of his favorite pastimes.

With his face set into a look of the utmost concentration, Loki unscrewed the lid of a small jar and very carefully tipped its contents onto his brother's face. A brown spider landed on the side of Thor's mouth, which had the misfortune to be gaping open at that very moment. The spider, which Loki had found in his mother's gardens, was no larger than his thumbnail, and he didn't _think_ it was poisonous. The little brown thing appeared far too innocuous for that. Surely the truly evil ones would be black and hairy with millions of eyes and legs.

First Loki hid the jar, and then he donned an expression full of distress. "_Wake up_," he said, shaking his older brother's shoulder with urgency. "There's something beastly crawling on your face."

Thor stirred but didn't open his eyes. "What? Go 'way. Mm sleeping."

Truly, Thor had brought this upon himself. If he would but wake up after a simple request like a normal person, Loki would not be driven to such lengths.

"It's really rather large, Thor," Loki said, "and I think it's eyeing your nose."

The spider chose that moment to scurry across Thor's upper lip, and he flinched and inhaled sharply. Half a second later, Thor sat up in bed and succumbed to a bout of intense coughing. Loki gasped, and his eyes went wide—for the spider was suddenly nowhere to be seen.

Well. That was certainly one way to solve a problem.

Loki beamed. "Oh, good—you're awake. How soon can you get dressed?"

"Was that—" Thor coughed a few more times and then blinked at his brother in astonishment. "Did I just swallow a _spider_?"

"Technically you inhaled it," Loki said. "Then swallowed. But anyway listen—I've finalized my plan and need your help gathering a few items before breakfast."

Thor gaped at him, his cheeks turning an alarming shade of crimson. "Did you put that thing on me on purpose?"

"Brother," Loki said, his hand placed over his heart as he backed slowly away from the bed. "I'm shocked. How could you think I would do such a thing? I was the one attempting to _save you_ from it."

Though Loki spun lies with relative frequency, his execution often left something to be desired. It was for this reason that Thor roared and threw the blankets aside without a moment's hesitation or doubt.

It was lucky indeed that Loki had the foresight to scatter marbles across the floor before undertaking this risky venture, for it was because of their presence alone that he lived to see breakfast.

* * *

After a fearsome quarrel that resulted in Loki requiring a change of clothes for reasons he refused to discuss, the brothers reviewed their plan. They spoke very few words, and those they said out loud contained little in the way of details.

Heimdall did not always have his gaze fixed upon the sons of Odin, particularly when they were safe and secure within the palace walls, but they could never be certain when his attention was held elsewhere. Plotting mischief was therefore something of a gamble, and though it was rare, sometimes they remained undetected. Since the watchman couldn't read minds, it was decided Loki would leave most of the details unspoken, only verbally giving Thor the next step when absolutely necessary. Even if Heimdall began to suspect something was amiss, the brothers might reach the Southern Wall before anyone could stop them.

Thor wasn't used to Loki being the one giving orders or taking the lead, but there was little to be done about that if his brother refused to share the details.

"I don't like this plan at all," Thor said. "It's stupid."

"Well, I don't like your face at all," Loki said. "_You're_ stupid."

Though Loki's keen wit had clearly won that particular argument, Thor remained unconvinced. However, he went along with it simply to keep his little brother out of trouble, for Loki was more talented in crafting quips than defending himself after their delivery.

Before breakfast, the boys made a quick detour to the kitchens, where Loki snuck a fine poppy seed cake and two bottles of wine out from under the watch of the head cook and his army of assistants.

"What do you need those for?" Thor asked once they safely emerged from the kitchens with their prize.

Loki's eyes sparkled as he replied, "Coercion, dearest brother."

"You call me that like it's supposed to mean something," Thor muttered, "but I'm your only brother. Of course I'm the dearest."

"Well, that's hardly my fault, is it? Blame mother and father for not providing you with more competition for my affection." Loki wrapped the wine and cake in paper and stowed them away in his satchel. "Quickly, then—to the healing rooms."

"What do we need from the—?"

"The less I say out loud, the better," Loki reminded Thor. "Don't worry, brother. I've thought everything through."

Thor let out an irritated sigh. "Since when is that reason not to worry?"

The mission to steal a particular vial of liquid from the healing rooms took far longer than it should, for Thor was designated to be the distraction.

"Tell them you're sick," Loki said. "But nothing too serious. Otherwise, we'll be here forever. While they're examining you, I can search through their supplies and get what we need."

However, Thor was an even worse liar than his brother, and so he decided to stick to the truth. "I think I swallowed a spider," Thor told the healers.

And so the next half hour was lost to the fussing of the healers as they thumbed through an arachnology book with Thor, inquiring after the size, shape, and color so that they might best know how to treat him. Loki's journey to retrieve the vial of liquid was over in less than five minutes, and he spent the remainder of the time waiting outside the doorway. In an effort to make his displeasure known, he pouted furiously until Thor emerged looking quite smug, having been gifted with a stick of peppermint candy to soothe his troubled stomach.

"Between that and the spider," Loki said, "I wonder if you're even hungry for breakfast at all."

"I'm sure I'll find a way to manage," Thor replied as he crunched on his candy, "but thank you for your concern."

* * *

Because of the unanticipated delay, the brothers were late to breakfast, a trespass met with a raised eyebrow of disapproval from the queen.

"Boys," Frigga said, eyeing them coolly when they appeared.

"Good morning, mother," Thor and Loki chimed in unison, each offering her a kiss without a hint of the fuss they'd made the prior night.

Odin shook his head in pity as he sipped his morning tea, for even the King of Asgard knew better than to arrive late to Frigga's breakfast table.

Unlike supper, which they ate in the great hall alongside members of the royal court, breakfast was a private affair that only involved the two brothers and their parents. In the winter months, they dined inside, but on a warm summer morning like that day, Frigga arranged for a table to be set up outside in the courtyard adjacent to her gardens.

The brothers hurried to their places at the table and found it loaded down with a variety of dishes—poached eggs, slabs of bacon and smoked fish, perfectly ripened fruit, and freshly baked breads still warm from the oven. Thor and Loki did not hesitate to dig in.

"I'm sorry we're late," Loki said as he snatched up his favorite bread—the one with bits of dried fruit and nuts baked in. "Thor had to go to the healers. He ate a spider even though I _tried_ to warn him."

Though Thor's face flushed red with anger at Loki's imaginative reweaving of the story, he did not have a chance to clarify the details. Frigga expressed immediate concern and asked Thor each and every question the healers had already posed to him. Loki felt a stirring of jealousy in his chest as he dribbled an extra helping of honey onto his bread. He didn't understand the need to fuss over his brother. Thor was obviously _fine_.

Eventually, they all quieted down to eat. Loki kicked his feet under the table and tried to chew as quickly as possible. Normally he did neither of these things, priding himself on dining manners that were every bit as good as an adult's, but today he was too excited to calm down. Thor's attentions were lost in a cup of steamed milk and chocolate while Odin and Frigga chatted quietly about the day's schedule.

"So," Odin said during a lull in the conversation, "what manner of mischief are the sons of Odin planning today?"

Thor and Loki glanced at each other and then at their father. Neither of them replied. Did the All-Father suspect something? Had Heimdall found them out and already delivered his report?

"There is a decided lack of food and insults flying across this table," Odin explained. "The last time this rare occurrence took place was precisely eight months and fourteen days ago, when you tucked an inebriated member of Council into bed with your nanny. Either both of you have taken violently ill, or you've made plans to bring the palace ceiling down upon our heads. I certainly hope it is the latter. I sharpened and polished Gungnir only last night. Seldom do I have a chance to use it in these days of peace. How good of you both to volunteer yourselves for target practice."

"There is no planned mischief, father," Loki said, "though Thor does have a request. _He_ wants to go to the marketplace today." When Thor kicked him under the table for this betrayal, Loki winced but recovered quickly. "We're only demonstrating the angelic behavior we plan to exhibit on our journey, should you allow us to go."

Odin laughed once, hard but genuinely amused, and Loki relaxed at the sound of it. "And what does my queen think of this _angelic_ request?" Odin said.

"That's quite a distance to journey alone," Frigga said. "The sons of Odin are by far the bravest in the realm, though perhaps not old enough to face the marketplace by themselves."

"We thought of asking Volstagg to come with us," Loki said. "We would not go alone, mother."

Odin's good eye shifted to his youngest son's face and remained fixated there, though his expression revealed nothing about the direction of his thoughts. Loki smiled back at him, but it began to strain after a moment. Something seemed off about his father's gaze, and it made Loki feel strangely off balance.

"If that is the case," Frigga said, "then I see no harm in an outing—_provided_ you secure Volstagg's agreement to accompany you and understand that Heimdall will have his eye on you the entire time. You will both behave yourselves and not put undue strain on Volstagg. Are we all agreed?"

"Yes, mother," the brothers said, one right after the other.

Loki popped up from his chair a breath later. "May we be excused now? I want to get started right away. We still have to convince Volstagg to join us."

Frigga laughed at his eagerness but waved them off with a smile. "You will both return to the palace before dark. Thor, mind that your little brother does not wander off. He does get distracted by the street vendors."

After draining the final dregs of his milk and chocolate, Thor wiped his mouth with his sleeve and pushed his chair back. "You ask the impossible," he said, "but I will do my best."

But just as Thor ran off with Loki ready to follow at his heels, Odin spoke up at last. "Loki," he said quietly.

Loki stopped in his tracks and turned to face his father, swallowing once as he waited for the rest.

"You and your brother will stay away from the Southern Wall," Odin said. "Do you understand?"

It was then that Loki recognized his mistake. He shouldn't have mentioned both the marketplace, which was but a short distance from the Southern Wall where the vagrants of the realm congregated, and Volstagg, who had told Thor the story of the Norn who supposedly lived there. Odin had put two and two together.

"Yes, father," Loki said. "I understand."

But an acknowledgement of understanding was not quite the same thing as an agreement.

This was one of Loki's earliest lies that achieved any manner of success, for he was beginning to learn to conceal deception within truth.

* * *

Volstagg was a brave young warrior who had made a name for himself due to his boisterous passion for battle and equally enthusiastic appetite for food. Rarely had he met his match in either arena. He towered over his peers, both vertically and horizontally, and thus outshone them with ease. Recently married, it was said he was quite handsome beneath the wild tangle of his beard, but no one knew this for certain.

Thor often followed him around, learning what he could from him. Volstagg, in turn, had earned some clout in securing the attention of the young prince. Despite the difference in age, it was an effortless friendship. Thor looked up to his older companion, but there was a knowing respect in Volstagg's eyes. Though the All-Father had yet to formally name his successor, it was widely assumed by the general populace that Thor would one day assume the throne of Asgard.

Loki, who often kept to his books and daydreams, was yet unaware of this. Volstagg loved children as a rule, and so he did what he could to be kind to the youngest son of Odin. Still, Loki's preference for solitude and learning often confused the warrior, who related better to Thor's thirst for action.

The brothers trekked outside the palace to the city streets just beyond. Two guards followed behind them, assigned to watch the boys until they secured Volstagg's agreement to escort them on their journey. This kind of attention aggravated them both, though for different reasons. Thor felt he was too old to need a constant babysitter, and Loki found it difficult to do anything remotely entertaining with someone always standing over his shoulder.

"I heard what father said to you about the Southern Wall," Thor said under his breath. "We're going to get in trouble for this, aren't we?"

Loki smirked and kept his eyes fixed on the path ahead. "No more than we ever do."

And even Thor had to grin at that. While it was true that their father might punish them—perhaps confining them to the nursery or denying them dessert for a week—Odin had never once struck his sons or given them any reason to truly fear his judgment. No real harm would find them at the other end of this journey. The brothers felt invincible.

"Let me do the talking," Loki said to Thor when they arrived at Volstagg's quarters in the housing district. He knocked on the door and straightened his tunic into perfect order while they waited.

"Are you certain?" Thor asked. "He hardly knows you."

"All the better," Loki reasoned. He eyed their assigned guards, who stood at the opposite end of the lane, far enough away not to overhear. "He won't suspect anything. Besides, you realize Volstagg's friendship with us is beneficial to his station, don't you? Things will go well for him if he does well by us."

Thor was quiet for a moment as he processed his brother's words. "I don't think that's why he's my friend."

"Well, then you're not thinking at all," Loki said. "Hush now. I hear the sound of approaching thunder. Volstagg the Voluminous must be nearing the door."

Indeed, Volstagg soon appeared in the doorway, and the boys both took in a deep breath and smiled. His home smelled of coffee and pastries. He beamed down at the brothers, red cheeked from overindulging in laughter, drink, and food.

"Thor, my friend!" Volstagg boomed in greeting. "And young Loki as well. How might I be of service to the princes of the realm?"

Loki swayed on his feet and backed up a step, a bit overwhelmed by the sheer size of the man. As Volstagg's shadow fell over him, something stirred deep within Loki's memory that made him feel oddly cold inside, but he brushed the feeling away without paying it much heed. Loki dug into his satchel and retrieved the fragrant poppy seed cake he'd stolen from the kitchens, which he knew to be Volstagg's favorite.

"We wish to acquire your services for an adventure," Loki said, handing the cake over, still covered in its paper wrappings. "As well as to ask that you share any information you might have on the Norn living at the Southern Wall. You will be well compensated for your trouble. There are more sweets where that came from, I assure you."

Thor rolled his eyes, for he disliked when Loki put on airs and tried to sound like a grown up—particularly around his friends. "I thought you only stole one cake," Thor pointed out.

Loki glared briefly at his brother but then turned to offer Volstagg a winning smile. "I have a supplier."

Volstagg blinked down at the cake as if uncertain why he was holding it. "Er. An adventure, you say?"

"Or you could simply come with us because it might be fun," Thor said. "Father and mother won't let us go to the marketplace alone but gave us permission to ask you to come with us."

It was Loki's turn to roll his eyes. Thor obviously had limited understanding of the subtleties of persuasion.

Volstagg laughed. "Well, then. In that case, let me fetch my weapon, and we'll be on our merry way."

* * *

Asgard's market district was on the southern borders of the city, about an hour's walk from the palace if taken at a leisurely pace. However, that particular day, the journey lasted a bit longer with Volstagg and Thor stopping to chat with various acquaintances they encountered.

"Make haste," Loki called to his companions more than once, always five or ten paces ahead of them. "We'll never get there at this rate."

"What excites your brother so?" Volstagg asked Thor. "He acts as though he's never been to the marketplace before."

"He wants to see the Norn at the Southern Wall," Thor explained. "The one you told me about. You remember—the story of the Einherjar who lost a child to death in the night."

Loki turned and shot a look of warning at Thor, who failed to notice. This also displeased Loki, who did not care in the least for being ignored. It was just like his older brother to do exactly that the moment one of his friends joined them. It was as if Thor had forgotten all about his brother and the secrecy of their plan. Now that Volstagg was here, Loki was no longer the leader of this quest. He was reduced to a mere tagalong.

"Ah," Volstagg said. "While I can see why that story might have kindled your curiosity, I'm afraid the king and queen would not look kindly upon me if I brought you to such a place. I'm sure that was not their intention when giving you permission to go to the market. Perhaps when you are older. The Southern Wall is no place for children."

Thor flushed at this, for that was his least favorite thing in all the Nine Realms to hear. "I don't see why it matters how old I am. I'm not afraid of any vagrant or drunkard. If they were smart, they should be afraid of me. No one would dare to harm a prince of Asgard for fear of losing their head."

"Those who live at the Wall have fallen prey to madness and desperation," Volstagg said. "You must not rely upon sound reasoning when dealing with them, for more often than not, they have none in their possession and will mock you for any in yours. Royal titles will mean little to them, as will the sharpened blade of my axe, for they care as much about their death as they do about their life."

"If they're so dangerous, why doesn't the All-Father simply drive them away from the city altogether?" Loki asked.

Volstagg hesitated before responding, as if not immediately grasping the question. "And where do you propose they go?"

Loki ignored this inquiry, for it seemed trivial in comparison to other matters at hand. "Tell us more about the Norn. Have you seen her? What does she look like?"

"I have not seen her myself, no," Volstagg said. "I've heard only rumors. _Tall tales_, you might call them. You will find, young Loki, that many in this district like to weave stories to entertain or impress rather than to pass along truth. There is nothing at the Southern Wall save for the wretched, forgotten souls of the realm. Pathetic creatures, the lot of them, worthy of our pity."

Loki took in this new information without reacting to it. Though he fell silent, the wheels in his mind spun ever faster. He wondered if Volstagg was lying to him merely to draw Loki's attention away from his goal. _I must see for myself_, he decided—and made up his mind not to let Volstagg's doubts or lies about the existence of the Norn sway him.

Eventually, they arrived at their destination and found the marketplace thriving with commotion. The crowd congregating there was impressive, and the ruckus they created as they bought and purchased goods, even more so. Though the Æsir clearly outnumbered any other race, nowhere else in the realm could so many foreigners be found. Loki stared with enormous eyes at a man with bright green skin until Volstagg hurried the little prince along.

"Mind you both stay close to me," Volstagg said. "There are some here who have not sworn loyalty to the throne of Asgard."

"Foreign dignitaries?" Loki guessed.

"More like mercenaries," Thor said, sounding a bit too excited at the prospect of encountering one.

Volstagg laughed. "Perhaps they are but one and the same. Stay sharp, lads. Into the fray we go."

The market was laid out across a series of alleyways between older buildings, with flags of every color and pattern tied to wooden carts and stands. This was an ancient part of the city that had seen less reconstruction and maintenance than other districts closer to the palace. The stone beneath their feet was uneven and mismatched, and the unrefined air was full of smoke, dust, and unfamiliar smells. It tickled the back of their throats and brought color to their cheeks.

The people they encountered had rugged faces and harder eyes than those in the wealthier areas surrounding the palace. There were a variety of different street vendors, selling everything from dried herbs to exotic animals imported from distant realms. People shouted and lofted their wares high into the air, trying to draw the attention of anyone with gold in their pocket.

Loki hovered very close to his brother as they entered the crowd. He disliked the noise and wished Thor would glance in his direction more often to see that Loki was struggling to elbow his way through. This place was always more unpredictable than he remembered, and it left him feeling with a tight knot of uncertainty in his stomach.

Thor looked back and reached for Loki's hand. "Look, brother—a frost giant!"

Though the words sent a jab of fear through Loki's heart, that didn't stop him from standing up on the tips of his toes. "I can't see," he said, which prompted Volstagg to haul both boys upward and seat them upon his great shoulders.

From their new vantage point, Thor and Loki peered over the heads of the crowd at a lonely figure in the distance. The frost giant was enormous enough to steal Loki's breath away, and he stared at the beast with all the curiosity of someone obsessed with that which frightened him most. The giant was wrapped in cloaks meant to either hide or protect his skin, and he looked absolutely miserable in the Asgardian summer heat. His head and shoulders were stooped as if that might make his size less obvious, but this had little success. Those who spotted him did not bother disguising their disdain, and they shouted at him to move along, away from their vicinity. A group of Einherjar lingered not far away, fingers tightening around their weapons as they eyed the Jötunn. It was as if he were the one causing the uproar instead of the Æsir.

"What is it doing here?" Loki asked, secretly glad that he was held safely atop Volstagg's shoulder. He trembled from a combination of fear and excitement. "I thought our borders were closed to their kind."

"Sent to trade or do business, I imagine," Volstagg guessed. "The Jötnar are forbidden from entering our realm, just as we are not to trespass upon theirs—but there are political exceptions on both sides. The survival of their people in that waste of a realm depends on our generosity. He must have something in the way of status. You could very well be looking upon a prince of Jötunheim, as hard as that might be to believe."

Thor and Loki both laughed at the very idea. "That's not a prince," Thor said. "That's a monster. Have you ever seen anything so hideous?"

"Hellevi's backside, perhaps, is the only thing that might rival the beast in size and ferocity," Loki said. "Do you still think you can slay all the frost giants on your own, brother?"

"I should very much like to try," Thor said. "Look at the coward skulk. He's not as big as all the stories say."

"I think your eyesight is in need of an adjustment," Volstagg said. "Now, then—could I treat the two of you to a bit of refreshment before we continue our exploration? I'm famished after our long journey."

Loki tore his attention away from the frost giant only long enough to scowl at Volstagg. "We ate breakfast not two hours ago, and you polished off an entire poppy seed cake by yourself before we left."

"True, true," Volstagg said. "Though I know of an establishment that has an excellent view of a certain location you've expressed interest in." He winked at Loki, trying very hard to win the younger prince over. "I cannot in good conscience take you to the Southern Wall, but perhaps I could let you indulge in a peek."

Loki lifted his chin, his interest kindled. "Very well," he said. "We will do as you suggest."

But even as Volstagg carried the boys away, still seated upon his shoulders, Loki found himself looking back at the frost giant. For years, the creatures had plagued his nightmares, and he often woke up in the night, shivering and crying until Thor was able to calm him down. Loki would lie awake for hours afterward, held tight against the solid strength of his brother's warmth, and listen to the sounds of battle waging in his imagination. The All-Father had told his sons many stories about the war with Jötunheim, and Loki sometimes found his mind would paint vivid pictures of it when he tried to sleep at night. The ice seemed to call to him—like a deadly siren in the mist and snow. He hated when his mind sought to torment him this way and wished the entire frozen realm of Jötunheim simply did not exist.

Despite all the stories, Loki had never seen a frost giant before and was surprised to find this one looked exactly as horrible as he'd imagined. The monster met Loki's gaze momentarily, and the sight of the burning red eyes was enough to make Loki cling a little tighter to Volstagg. He stared at the beast until he could see it no longer.

As vivid and distressing as this moment was for Loki, it was still not the most frightening thing he saw that day. That moment was yet to come.

* * *

Volstagg took the boys to a pub on the outskirts of the market. It was dark but cozy inside, with wood and iron furnishings and a fine layer of smoke hovering in the air, barely visible except in the places where sunshine filtered in through the dirty windows. Many of the tables and stools were vacant, for it was too early in the morning for most to drink. However, this did not stop Volstagg from ordering a pint and a meal large enough to feed a family of ten.

"Through that window, just over there," Volstagg said to the brothers. "Take a good look, lads, for I'm afraid this is as close to your destination as you will get today."

Thor and Loki ran to the window that Volstagg had pointed out and pressed their hands and noses to the glass, which had likely not been cleaned in the better part of a decade.

Loki squinted through the veil of filth and soon spotted what he was looking for. There in the distance was a wall of colorless, broken stone. Though easily standing twice as tall as any frost giant, the Southern Wall was in ruins. However, Loki thought it did seem a suitable place for a weaver of destiny to hide—like something from a storybook. Everyone knew those with any real kind of power seldom lived in palaces surrounded by finery and jewels.

"Why don't they repair it?" Thor asked. "It seems ready to fall down."

"Those who live there are not so easily moved," Volstagg said. "The Wall is in worse shape here than in other places, for it has paid witness to a series of bloody revolts in the past. Your father chooses what battles are worth fighting, I think, and that particular one would result in unnecessary bloodshed."

"I don't see any people there at all," Loki said. "It looks abandoned."

"The Wall goes on for some distance, beyond what you can see from that window," Volstagg said. "That is but a small part of it. It breaks off and weaves across the southern borders behind the city. A veritable labyrinth in places, but though it is in disrepair, it is still effective in protecting the borders. You see, the barrier forces those traveling here from the mountains to enter through the main gates. It serves its purpose well enough in that regard."

Loki turned and spotted Volstagg's pint sitting on the wooden bar, having been left there momentarily by the attendant. Recognizing his opportunity had come at last, Loki slipped his hand inside his pocket and closed it around the vial of liquid he'd stolen from the healing rooms. He ran to the bar and claimed the pint. When the bar attendant caught his eye, Loki gave him the most innocent of smiles and said, "Do not trouble yourself. I will bring it to him."

"I thank you, young Loki," Volstagg said when his pint was set before him. He held his flagon high and added, "Long live the sons of Odin, for if they don't, I will most assuredly be sent to the gallows this very day."

Thor and Loki spend the next half hour in absolute amazement of Volstagg's capacity for feasting. The table was stacked high with empty plates and the gnawed bones of animals. The brothers watched in silence, their little heads turning one way and then the other as they wondered where it all went.

But some time later, Volstagg began to look a bit pale. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat and mopped sweat from his brow with his sleeve.

"Forgive me, lads," he said as he rose from the table. "I must excuse myself to attend to a bit of, eh, _business_. Stay put until I return, and we will then venture out into the market again."

Once Volstagg had hurried off, Thor asked his brother, "I suppose we must abandon our plan. You know he won't bring us to the Wall."

"That won't matter," Loki replied. "I don't anticipate he will return to us anytime soon."

Thor looked over his shoulder in the direction Volstagg had gone. "He only went to relieve himself. He'll be back any minute now."

A slow smile spread across Loki's face. "Will he?"

"I don't think I like the sound of that. What did you do_ now_?"

"Nothing of consequence," Loki said with an indifferent shrug. "Though I did make use of the vial of liquid I stole from the healing rooms. I slipped it into Volstagg's drink when he wasn't looking."

Thor turned back around to face his brother, eyes huge. "What was in it?"

"Something that will keep him glued to the toilet for the next three hours." Loki frowned. "Or perhaps six. The instructions on the dosage were a bit unclear, and he's so wide that I felt a larger than normal amount was necessary. It's meant to induce a thorough cleansing of toxins from the system."

"Volstagg is my _friend_," Thor said. "You should have told me what you meant to do."

"Why would I do that, when you would only attempt to talk me out of it? Relax. The worst that can happen to him is dehydration, and we're in a pub full of liquid. He'll be fine, but you and I must go at once. Heimdall will have surely overheard. We have limited time to get to the Wall before he sends a host of Einherjar after us."

But though Loki retrieved his satchel, which still contained the two bottles of wine he'd stolen from the kitchens, Thor hesitated at the table.

"On your feet, brother," Loki said. "Since when are you a coward?"

Thor's posture straightened at this accusation. "Since when are you not? I never should have let you make the plan. I don't even understand why you want to go there so badly."

"Because I want to _know_."

"It's just a _story_, Loki. You heard what Volstagg said. Even if you do find this supposed Norn, what do you think she's going to tell you that's worth all this trouble?"

_Why I'm so different than you, inside and out. Why I can be in the middle of a crowd yet feel so alone. Why I hear the sound of war in the night while you sleep peacefully beside me. Why father sometimes looks at me askance. How we are both born to be kings yet there is but one throne._

Loki let out a slow breath. "Everything."

Shouldering his satchel, he turned and marched out of the pub, leaving the decision of whether or not to follow up to the loyalty of his brother.

* * *

To be continued


	3. Chapter 3

Sleight of hand was a useful enough trick for those new to the art of deception. Amateurs or outright frauds often favored such tactics to manipulate the perceptions of their audience.

Loki, however, found this practice to be clumsy and lacking in creativity. Slight of tongue was more effective by far. Difficult to detect or prevent. More damaging and sustainable than any illusion.

Best of all, it was simply _fun_.

It was important to remember to speak the truth, thus allowing the story to withstand cross-examination or any serum or device meant to shed light on dishonesty. However, the elimination of certain details was not the same thing as a lie, and if done properly, might twist the meaning of a story entirely. A finger could be pointed in the wrong direction or a shadow of doubt cast over an enemy's character without anyone realizing the person in question was Loki's enemy at all.

Loki understood quite well that a liar's greatest tool was the truth. It was therefore unfortunate that he possessed a weakness for offering hints to his victims. He enjoyed watching doubt dance in their eyes as they attempted to find fault in his story. It became a kind of game to him to see exactly how long it would take them to figure it out. In his mind, this was the only time his art was truly appreciated by those around him.

However, he disliked when others attempted to use this tactic on him, for his tendency to underestimate the minds of his opponents ensured he almost always failed to see it coming.

* * *

Chapter 3

"Loki, your father did not stop loving you that day," Frigga said, her tone patient but firm. "That is simply untrue. He loves you still."

Loki's hand hovered close to the energy barrier that kept him imprisoned in his cell. He felt the heat threatening to burn his skin and pushed as close to it as he dared. "Yes, I can feel the All-Father's affection warming my very soul at this moment." He dropped his arm and turned, mouth set into an ironic quirk of a smile. "Do you recall the day in question?"

"I remember it well," Frigga said. Her gaze softened a degree. "My child was injured. Of course, I remember it."

Loki chuckled at her word choice. His hand moved to rest upon his chin, and his thumb unconsciously traced the small scar on his upper lip. "And yet you were not present when the injury occurred. I imagine when two overwrought children offer an account of events, they might be prone to exaggeration or the withholding of certain information that could get them into more trouble than they were already in. Moreover, I recall you being more concerned over the injury itself than the events that led to it."

Frigga lifted both eyebrows. "Is that your way of telling me there's more to the story than I know?"

Loki's smile widened. "An excellent question, my queen. Upon occasion, I've wondered the very same thing myself."

* * *

As young Loki marched with determination toward the Southern Wall, he monitored his visual periphery for any Einherjar that might have been summoned by Heimdall. But more importantly, Loki watched for his brother. The closer he got to his goal, the more he became aware of a sinking feeling in his gut, for Thor had not yet emerged from the pub.

But surely he would come. Thor would not choose Volstagg over his own flesh and blood kin, would he? Loki felt unexpectedly lost at the idea that he might have miscalculated—that he might have to make this journey alone. If so, it was a betrayal of the highest order and one he would not easily forgive.

Just as Loki's feet began to grow heavy with doubt, he glanced over his shoulder and spotted Thor hurrying down the pub's steps in pursuit of his brother. Thor appeared rather cross, but Loki was used to that. He grinned and quickened his pace.

The morning sky had lost its brilliance and stretched over them like a pale, unblinking eye. The air was hot and dusty, and the din of the marketplace was muffled by the growing distance. The buildings in this area of the city were cramped, built nearly on top of each other, but there were few people in sight. Up ahead, the Southern Wall loomed silent and unassuming. The crumbling mass of stones seemed ready to crash down on top of Loki, its height and scale much more impressive up close than when seen from the palace. A handful of guards monitored an iron gate that opened up onto one of the main city streets, but the Wall was built so high that few bothered to police its full length as it stretched east and west. This made it a perfect place for criminals or trespassers to hide.

"What took you so long?" Loki asked when Thor finally caught up with him. "You know very well why we must make haste."

"I checked on Volstagg, if you must know," Thor said. He had lost the easiness of his earlier smiles and glared at the path ahead like it had insulted him. "I no longer wish to follow your plan if this is how you mean to lead us. From here on out, we do things my way, or we don't do them at all."

Loki looked at him sharply. "What does that mean?"

"It means that I lead, and you follow—as it should have been from the beginning."

"That's hardly fair. My plan is working, if you haven't noticed. We're far closer to the Wall than we would have been were you the one to—"

"This isn't up for discussion, Loki. Fall in line or go home."

Loki's face flushed, and he pretended it was because of the rising late-morning heat. He felt as though he had his arms twisted behind his back or like he'd been knocked off balance while standing at a great height. It wasn't fair. Loki had been the one to get them here, but Thor would no doubt take all the credit upon their successful return. He had a habit of overriding every other opinion but his own. A knot of injustice tightened around Loki's heart.

"Don't worry, brother," Thor said in a kinder tone. "We will do this together, but we do it my way. Stay behind me, and let me do the talking."

"Oh, certainly," Loki muttered as he kicked a rock out of his path. "Because that always ends well."

"Stop that. You'll draw attention our way."

With Thor now secured in the position of leadership, the boys closed in on the Wall. Loki's chin began to tip ever upward as he marveled at the sheer size of the construction. Asgard was certainly not known for its architectural subtlety. The ancient structure was leached of all color by the elements. Lichen flourished in the spaces between the stones, which were adorned with symbols and runes too worn down by time to make out. Loki knew from his studies that the Southern Wall was constructed at the beginning of Bor's reign, but Loki had only ever seen it from a distance or in pictures from books that could never capture the place's true essence. Now thousands of years old, it seemed like a living thing, a silent witness to the slow passage of time.

Before they managed to cross the final street before their destination, Thor dragged Loki behind a column in an effort to evade the notice of a passing trio of Einherjar. "They're looking for us," Thor whispered as he peeked around the corner. "Heimdall must have sounded the warning."

"Congratulations on your grasp of the obvious," Loki said. "Would you also like to point out that the sky is blue?"

"Hush," Thor said. "The guards at the gate might pose a problem as well, but they're not looking this way. We'll have to make a run for it before they do. Come on."

The boys hurried behind the backs of the passing Einherjar, running on the tips of their toes so as not to send the broken stones at their feet clattering before them. This was not nearly as fun as racing through the palace corridors after supper. Loki nearly lost his balance, but Thor grabbed his arm and yanked him forward before he could fall. Together, the boys reached the deep, cutting shadows of the Southern Wall and disappeared from sight.

* * *

Thor and Loki soon discovered why the criminals and outcasts of the realm liked to hide there, for the boys were quickly isolated from the rest of the marketplace. The Wall ran behind the city's buildings, and all of them had impenetrable gates or barriers made of stone at their rear. Thor and Loki found themselves funneled through the alleyway between. There were enormous drains blocked by dried brush, and the smell of sewage made Loki's eyes water.

It was dark there, and they cast no shadows, even though the featureless sky gazed ever down at them from above. Loki tensed when he heard a raven's call, which was amplified tenfold by the enclosed space, but the bird in question was nowhere to be seen. Another raven answered a moment later, and their disquieting duet faded into the distance.

Thor dropped Loki's hand and squinted up ahead, where a group of people could be seen loitering near a broken section of the Wall. They numbered around fifty. Piles of rock covered in unintelligible graffiti lay heaped on the ground, and behind them, the Wall had been patched with newer stonework to repair the damage. It looked like it had taken a blast many years ago.

The people congregating there were varied in age. There was a large group dressed in rags that huddled in the center, either too hot, weak, or intoxicated to move. Loki spotted a child or two among them, but they weren't laughing or playing. Somewhere, a baby cried endlessly without any attempt to soothe it. Intermingled in the crowd were a handful of wiry men, some of them shirtless with prominent veins and muscles eaten away by hunger. However, the hard set of their eyes spoke of hidden strength. Flies landed on exposed skin and faces but were tolerated instead of shooed away. They were, all of them, filthy and starving for something, and they gazed at the two young brothers as if they thought they might have it in their possession.

"Volstagg was probably right about the Norn not existing," Thor said under his breath. "We're only likely to find drunks and homeless here. By the Nine, they reek."

Indeed, the smell of piss and sweat had become apparent, and Loki tried very hard not to gag. This was not what he had envisioned. "Perhaps we should go back," he suggested.

"After coming all this way? We're already going to be in trouble, so we might as well get something out of it." Thor looked at him with a grin. "You're not afraid, are you?"

The question left Loki feeling strangely powerless. Something didn't seem right about this place, but he didn't want to reveal cowardice in front of his brother, particularly since this was his idea. Thor would never let Loki live such shame down, and so he straightened his posture and said, "Don't be ridiculous. I only think we should be careful."

"So in other words, you're afraid," Thor said with a laugh. "We're still safely within the city borders. Come on, little prince. Let us greet your noble subjects."

With each step the boys took, the air became a bit heavier. The gathering had noticed their approach, and those who were sitting slowly staggered to their feet. They stared without speaking, but the silence was no more comforting than shouting might have been. Loki could feel every pair of eyes burning into his skin, but he tried his best to mirror his brother's demeanor, which spoke of confidence and unflinching bravery. Soon, the boys were forced to walk through the middle of the crowd, having very little choice in the matter with the limited space.

"I am Thor Odinson, eldest son of your king," Thor called out as they passed. "And this is my brother, Prince Loki. We've heard tell of a Norn who lives in these parts and wish to speak with her. Who here knows of her whereabouts?"

A low grumbling bubbled up like water ready to come to a boil. Goosebumps erupted on Loki's skin. He wanted to sink into the ground until he came out on the opposite side of the realm, as far away from this place as possible. A hand brushed against his shoulder, and Loki's head whipped around to glare at the culprit.

It was a tall man with golden hair that was matted with grease and inattention. He grinned toothlessly back. "What's in the satchel, little beauty?" he whispered. His breath smelled of decay.

Loki's hands formed tight fists as he tried to steady his nerves. His eyes darted to Thor, hoping for help to come from his brother, but that was not Asgard's way. The boys had always been taught that the only way to deal with bullies was to stand firm and show no fear, for there was no other way to truly make them stop. Though he didn't like it, Loki had dealt with worse in the past. "Do not touch me again," he hissed, shouldering roughly past the man.

Perhaps it was the heat behind the words, surprising for one so young, but the man drew back with a stomach-curdling laugh and allowed them to pass.

"Come on, brother," Thor called. "Let's keep moving. It's obvious they know nothing."

Loki did not argue with this command and jogged forward a few steps to catch up. They moved faster now, eyes scanning ahead for any sign of their goal. Time was running out, and they would no doubt soon be caught if they didn't hurry.

After they left the crush of people behind, the air should have cleared and become more breathable, but Loki could not get the stink out of his nose. He turned and gasped when he saw the crowd following them at a distance. The toothless man hovered at the front, leading them forward with a dangerous smile.

Loki had anticipated encountering the castaways of the realm, but it had not occurred to him that they might be hostile. Didn't they realize who he was? "Thor," he said, catching his brother's sleeve. "They're following us."

Thor glanced back but did not appear overly concerned. "Good. They'll block the Einherjar and slow them down."

"Yes, but they're also blocking _us_. There's no way out except to go back the way we came."

Indeed, the Wall and the buildings closed in on both sides, forming a kind of corral that prevented escape. With the people gathering behind them, their only option was to continue walking forward. However, there was no promise that they would be able to get back into the city that way.

"If the Einherjar can't reach us easily, then that means they can't help us either," Loki pointed out.

"We need no help," Thor said. "If you don't want to look like prey to these people, then stop acting like it. Remember who's in charge, little brother, and follow my lead."

Not comforted by this in the least, Loki dug in his satchel and removed the two bottles of wine he'd stolen from the kitchens earlier that day. He had brought them along to bribe information out of any drunks they might encounter, but now that he'd seen them, he wanted nothing to do with any of this. Instead, he stooped and set the bottles on the ground, leaving them there for the masses to fight over.

"That's all we have," Loki called to them. He held his satchel open to reveal its empty depths. "Now leave us alone."

The wine had an immediate effect on the crowd, who encircled the bottles like they were the epitome of sustenance itself. The boys took advantage of this and hurried off to safety just as a scuffle broke out behind them.

They ran until their stomachs ached from the effort and came to a halt only when they could endure no more. Thankfully, no one had followed them, and only the sound of the brothers' labored breathing could be heard. They leaned forward with their hands resting just above their knees as they tried to recover.

With growing desperation, Loki searched the backs of the windowless buildings that closed them in and kept them from entering the city streets. "This is pointless," he said. "We could walk for hours and never find the exit. We don't even know if this Norn exists."

"What did you expect?" Thor said. "Adventures are never without risk or hardship. Just think of the stories we'll have to share with our friends upon our return."

"Assuming we live long enough to tell the tale."

Thor lifted a hand, indicating the empty space before them. "Yes, we're practically swimming in danger. However will we survive the day?"

"Has anyone ever told you that bravery is not the same thing as idiocy? You seem to have the two confused."

"I might say the same thing about you. Do you need me to hold your hand, littlest of brothers, or can you manage the walk on your own?"

Loki answered Thor with only the heat of a glare, so flustered that he couldn't think up a suitable response.

They pushed onward, sidestepping gnarled roots that had unsettled the broken stones beneath their feet, and Loki again noticed they cast no shadows where they walked. In front of them, the air shimmered like a mirage. Eventually, he detected the sound of rushing water—perhaps from a river or canal running close to the opposite side of the Wall. He tipped his chin up, squinting at the clouds of water vapor high overhead, wishing he could feel the cool kiss of it upon his cheeks.

A low hissing sound tickled Loki's ears, barely audible over the sound of the water. He shivered and spun in a circle in an attempt to ascertain the source. His shoulder bumped up against Thor's as he said, "Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?" Thor asked with far too much volume.

Loki shoved him. "If you'd stop breathing so loud, perhaps you'd notice. _Listen._"

Thor huffed out a sigh but stopped to do as his brother suggested. After listening for a moment, he seemed ready to affirm that he heard nothing. But when he glanced over his shoulder in the direction from which they'd come, Thor straightened and turned with sudden interest. Loki followed his brother's gaze and jolted with surprise.

Standing there was a little girl, perhaps a few years younger than Loki, with eyes the color of an empty sky. Her dress was patched together from pieces of finer garments, and Loki looked with distaste at her dirty hands and bare feet. Her fingernails were caked with black grime, and he wondered why she hadn't noticed and taken the necessary steps to clean them. Her mouth was scabbed, and she picked at another on her elbow.

"Hello." Thor took a step toward her. His tone was much kinder than the one he'd used with the crowd. "Are you lost?"

Somewhere nearby, a raven cried.

The little girl blinked at the brothers, still scratching at her elbow. A fly buzzed at her ear. Loki could see movement in the clear mirror of her eyes, but when he looked behind himself, there was nothing there.

"This place is dangerous," Thor said, taking another step. "Certainly no place for a child your age. Where are your parents?"

She tipped her head to one side as if trying to decipher the meaning behind the question. Her dirty fingers left marks on the pale skin of her arm.

"Thor," Loki whispered, tugging at his brother's sleeve. "I think we should leave." He'd heard the hissing sound again, but this time, it was accompanied by the ominous swell of a rattle. It seemed to encircle them, coming from everywhere and nowhere at the same time.

"Come with us," Thor called to the girl. "If we can't find your parents, then we'll take you to someone who can help you. Don't be afraid. We are the princes of this realm."

Finally the little girl spoke, but the words were unintelligible—a stream of nonsense that made Thor and Loki exchange a wary glance. Her tone was childlike but shrill, almost accusatory. The brothers could not puzzle out the meaning.

"The All-tongue isn't translating," Loki said. "How is that possible?"

"It's possible because she's only speaking gibberish—not real words at all," Thor said. "Who knows how long she's been down here by herself. We have to help her."

Loki didn't argue with this. Aiding the girl meant Thor would finally listen and allow them to leave, trading one adventure for another. "All right," Loki said. "Shall we take her back the way we came from? It's the fastest route. There's no telling what's ahead."

The raven cried out again, closer this time, almost right on top of them.

Thor looked around for other options of escape, but when his gaze passed behind Loki, he did a double take and gasped. Thor's hand shot out and grabbed his brother's arm, pulling him protectively behind himself. With a cry of surprise, Loki grasped Thor's shoulder to regain his balance and looked to see what had caused his brother such alarm.

It was then that he saw her. Hovering just behind where Loki was previously standing was a woman of indeterminate age. At least, Loki thought it was a woman but was not entirely certain. She could have been young or ancient, for she appeared both at the same time. Her matted hair was the color of dead leaves against the winter pale of her skin. Like the little girl, she was filthy, with grime accenting the hollows beneath her cheekbones. She was dressed in a thin white gown that was nearly transparent, and her belly was swollen, gaping out from a malnourished body. Loki wondered if it was an unborn child or perhaps the result of starvation. Her mouth was stained black. She'd certainly been eating _something_.

When Thor drew out a knife from his belt and held it aloft, Loki realized his brother was also spooked. "Where did you come from?" Thor said to the woman. "Stand down."

She laughed once, hard and cold, and grinned at them with startlingly white teeth. "Now, now." Her eyes flitted to the knife and back again. "Far too early for such things."

"I said, where did you come from?" Thor pressed. "The path ahead was empty, and you will not convince me you materialized out of thin air. Is there a way out nearby?"

"Thor," Loki pleaded—but could manage no more than that.

"I might ask the same of you," the woman said in a sing-song tone. Her voice was far more pleasant than her face. One of her hands folded protectively over her swollen stomach. "Little princes falling from the sky. Falling forever. Wherever did they come from, my dove?"

The little girl, who stood just behind the brothers, began to speak nonsense yet again. A long stream of information issued from her scabbed mouth, yet not a word of it made sense. Thor kept one hand secured around Loki's forearm, as if ready to drag him to safety, and they watched as the little girl and woman began to walk in slow, counterclockwise loops around them. Small black shadows moved on the ground. Two ravens had begun to circle overhead—Huginn and Muninn, Odin's eyes and ears. Loki looked up at them hungrily, silently begging his father to come to their aid. What was taking the Einherjar so long to get to them? Had they been held up by the skirmish caused by the wine? The lot of them deserved a good flogging for their incompetence.

"Are you her?" Thor asked. "Are you the Norn we've been searching for? You have an otherworldly look about you."

At this suggestion, Loki returned his gaze to the woman with newfound interest. But surely this disgusting creature was not who they were looking for.

Her colorless eyes glittered at them. "Come to inquire after your fate, have you? Come too far, I think. Naughty boys. Don't you know the Rule of Three?"

The little girl added something to this, jabbing a finger accusingly at Loki as she spoke. A dark blur of movement attracted his attention to the right, in the direction of the city, and his fingernails immediately dug into Thor's shoulder.

The brothers watched with growing horror as a head and then a body emerged from a drain like some kind of serpent. The dark head popped up, and an old woman's face smiled at them. The skin around her eyes was so crinkled that they were lost in the creases of her face. She wore what must have once been a white gown, much like the younger woman's, but the grime made it difficult to know for certain. Her skin was tanned and leathered, lined with years of exposure to the elements. She had bits of fabric tied about her feet with rope in lieu of shoes.

But most noteworthy about the old woman was the snake draped around her shoulders. Loki did not notice it at first, for it was the same milky brown color as her filthy gown. But then it moved, its body coiling a bit tighter around her, and Loki went absolutely rigid with fear. It was easily the length of a full-grown man, and at the end of its tail was a rattle. As the old woman staggered over to them, the snake wove its neck and head around her wrist, its movements like a dance. The forked tongue darted out as if it could taste Loki's distress. The old woman smiled at them sweetly, but her eyes remained hidden, squeezed shut as if they were incapable of opening at all. She joined the little girl and the younger woman as they walked in a circle around the brothers.

Thor's teeth were gritted in concentration. "Answer the question. Is there a Norn here or not?"

"Falling forever," the younger woman repeated with a shake of her head. She prodded Thor's arm and added, "You should learn to mind your tongue."

The old woman sniggered as the snake rattled its tail.

Loki licked his dry lips and tried to think. There were three Norns in the storybook—past, present, and future—and the younger woman had mentioned a Rule of Three. Had that been a hint?

"What can you tell us about our destiny?" Loki asked, trying to keep his voice steady. He kept his eyes on the snake and felt a bit queasy as he watched the little girl stretch out her hand to trail her fingers down to the clattering tail. "Assuming we have one, of course."

"Open your eyes, _boy,_" the young woman said, spitting out the last word like venom. Loki felt saliva hit his cheek beside his nose. "No, I suppose you can't. You see only with this." She poked him roughly, right in the center of his chest. Loki flinched and drew back.

"Do not touch him," Thor said, his knife glinting even in the shadows. The ravens squawked endlessly overhead. "He is the son of the king and my brother. You would do well to remember your station. Touch either of us again, and I will remind you myself." In a lower tone, he added, "Come on, Loki. They're just crazy old women aiming to mess with our heads. Let's get out of here."

"But you asked a question," the younger woman said with a laugh. "A little help, if you please, mother?"

The next few moments seemed to happen very slowly, and when Loki later tried to recall the details, he had difficulty remembering their exact order.

He recalled Thor saying something, but his voice was oddly muffled like they were standing underwater. Loki's heartbeat pounded in his ears, blocking out almost all other sound save for the menacing hiss of the snake. He felt the tug of Thor's arm pulling him out of the middle of the circle, and Loki turned to look at the old woman one last time. That's when she struck.

With her eerie smile unwavering, she flung the snake at Loki. "_Elska_," she said.

Loki should have reared back with a cry, but he could only stare, frozen in place, absolutely dazed. He blinked, and blood trickled warm down his lips as he watched the snake withdraw and curl back around the old woman's wrist.

Thor pulled at his arm. "Loki, _come on_."

The old woman hurled the snake at Thor, the same way she'd done to Loki, and said, "_Angan_."

Loki watched as if spellbound as the snake's jaw spread apart right in front of Thor's face, hovered there, trembling with ravenous effort, and then retreated back to the safety of its mistress's arms.

The next few minutes were lost to him completely.

* * *

When Loki again became aware of his surroundings, Thor was dragging him out into the city streets. They were both covered in muck and grime, and behind them was the mouth of a drain that led back to the Southern Wall. They had escaped its trap through the same exit the old woman had revealed to them.

Thor was not satisfied with the distance yet, so he pulled Loki along beside him. A group of Asgard's citizens could be seen in the distant streets, but no one was close enough to see or hear them.

However, Loki could walk no further. His legs were ready to give out. Thor finally let go of him, and Loki managed to sit calmly on the ground, right in the middle of the street. He pulled his legs to his chest and hugged them, blinking in rapid succession, his pupils blown wide.

"They're all raving lunatics!" Thor said. "I hope that little girl is okay. Loki, you must get up. There are people just a few blocks over that could help us get to her."

Huginn and Muninn landed on either side of Loki, but he only stared at him without reacting to their presence. He tried to whisper his brother's name but found he couldn't move his lips.

It was only then that Loki came to the realization that he was in pain. His arm throbbed like Thor had nearly ripped it out of the socket in an effort to pull him to safety. But that pain was nothing compared to the horrible throbbing Loki felt in his skull. He lifted one hand to his mouth, and it came away wet with blood.

_Thor_, he pleaded silently, fingers trembling.

When there was no response, Thor looked at his brother closer and said, "Norns, Loki—I think that snake _bit you_. Let me see." Thor tilted Loki's chin up and inspected the wound. "I can't tell if it did or not. You're bleeding. Don't move. I'll get help."

Tears spilled down Loki's cheeks. _Don't leave me here_, he wanted to say.

But when he tried to get up, Thor pushed him back down again. "Don't you remember what we learned about snakebites? The more you move, the quicker the venom spreads through your bloodstream. Stay put. I'll run as fast as I can."

And before Loki could offer any kind of protest, his brother was gone.

* * *

To be continued.

**Author's Notes**: So when I was a little kid, probably about 4 years old, I had this dream. I only call it a dream because I'm an adult now and figure it couldn't possibly be an actual memory. But for much of my childhood, I was absolutely convinced this really happened even though I held it inside and never told anyone.

It started relatively innocently. I was playing outside with my sister, and we'd wandered past the edges of our street into the woods. Nothing particularly special about that. We played there all the time. But then we came across this man who had a snake wrapped around his shoulders with its head trailing down the length of one arm. That in and of itself is pretty scary for a little kid—but not exactly nightmare-inducing.

The man himself? He was a wee bit nightmare-inducing. When I think about him, I get this pounding sense of evil in my gut, and I know that sounds stupid and wish I were kidding. But he really. fucking. scares me.

In this dream, the man threw the snake in our faces, one right after the other, and said something to each of us in turn. Neither of us was bitten or anything, but I don't know how to express how well I remember the sight of this snake in my face or the impression it had on me. Whatever the man did, it froze us in place, and we couldn't move until after he'd gone. I remember not being afraid. Just completely resigned and shut down inside. It was like someone had whispered to us that nothing strange was happening at all. That feeling didn't leave me for years.

To this day, it's not so much the memory of the snake that freaks me out. It's that I don't know what the man said or did to us. I don't know why I never thought to tell anyone about it until I was an adult. My sister has no memory of this event.

Totally just a bad dream, right?

(right?)

*hides forever*


	4. Chapter 4

Exaggeration was a tactic only to be used with great restraint. When employed too often, the listener would learn to approach the storyteller with caution. Credibility was often lost, and even the truth was all too often subject to scrutiny. For a master manipulator, this was danger itself.

Loki had learned this lesson many times over. Though he'd long since sworn off the use of exaggeration and deemed it childish, he often found he couldn't resist the temptation. He experienced emotions very deeply—anger, love, jealousy, helplessness—and was often puzzled when others remained unaffected by events that left him reeling. It was difficult to resist the urge to exaggerate when everything inside of him was exaggerated. And so his stories became larger than life, for this was often the only way to make others see and understand all he felt in his heart.

It was unfortunate that no one thought to look deeper at Loki's behavior and recognize it as a warning sign instead of a nuisance.

* * *

Chapter Four

Frigga fiddled with her teacup, her lips pursed as she considered Loki's story. "Is that how it happened? I always wondered what led the two of you so far astray that day."

"Do you remember it differently?" Loki said. He had ceased pacing his prison cell in order to study her reaction. "Earlier you implied I believe only the lies of my imagination and call them truth."

"That sounds like the same tale your brother told us long ago, though perhaps experienced through a younger set of eyes." Frigga's tone was cautious and measured, like she wasn't saying everything she wanted to. "My son, why are you telling me this? You must know there was never really a Norn by the Southern Wall. There is no such creature."

"As a child it felt real, though looking back now, I see it differently. The story was meant to show that Thor and I were equally to blame for what happened. When he wanted to hesitate, I pushed. When I wanted to go back, he pulled me forward. Our punishment, however, was not equal." Loki smiled and glanced purposefully around at his prison cell, which was to be his home until the end of his days. "Nor has it ever been."

"If I recall, you were _both_ punished for the incident at the Southern Wall."

Loki laughed and clasped his hands behind his back to hide the fact that they were suddenly trembling with anger. "You know, when Thor committed treason and murdered innocents on another realm, thus igniting a war, he was banished to a hospitable realm for a period of three days. Then he was allowed to come home and commit treason yet again by supplanting the rightful King of Asgard. Conversely, for my acts of perceived treason, I was put in a cage for the remainder of my days—roughly 4,000 years from now. Tell me, my queen, does that feel like equal treatment to you? You asked me when things changed—when I began to slip away—and so I'm telling you. That was the moment I realized I was held to a far different standard than my _brother_."

* * *

While young Loki waited for his brother to fetch help, it occurred to him that he was likely dying. This was not the way he'd envisioned the adventure to the Southern Wall would end.

Though it was difficult to see through his tears, he kept his eyes fixed on Thor. He was several blocks away at the mouth of the marketplace, tugging on the sleeve of an adult. He turned and pointed toward his little brother, who sat crying and bleeding in the middle of the street. It wasn't long before a small crowd was headed in Loki's direction. Huginn and Muninn called out to encourage them to make haste.

"What's the matter with you, then?" a woman asked.

Loki blinked in surprise and looked up to see a woman bent over him. Her eyes were a vivid blue and appeared much younger than her face. Her blonde hair was streaked with gray and gathered into a respectful knot at the base of her skull.

Loki absolutely loathed her on sight. Couldn't she see he was dying? "S-snakebite," he managed after two false starts. It was difficult to speak with an injured mouth.

"Hmm." The woman tilted Loki's chin up so that she could inspect the wound. "What luck that it missed your eyes." She smiled at him and looked as though she thought he might find humor in the statement as well. After ruffling his hair, she added, "Try not to fret, little prince. You'd be dead twice over if the fates were done with you. You'll be all right."

Loki was barely listening, distracted instead by the approaching people. There were no less than a dozen citizens that had come to his aid, two Einherjar among them. Thor ran ahead of them and went down on his knees when he reached his brother. "Loki, are you all right?"

"You should keep a closer eye on this one," the woman said to Thor. "He does seem the type to slip away if left unattended."

One of the Einherjar carried Loki to a nearby healer, who sold a variety of remedies and wares from a wooden cart in the marketplace. "No immediate danger," the healer proclaimed after examining the young prince. Her voice was breathless from the excitement of such a large crowd gathered around her cart. "He was only cut—not bitten. More frightened than hurt, I think."

Loki glared at the healer, affronted by her last statement. "I'm not afraid," he whispered, lips trembling with every word. The healer responded to this by pressing a pack of ice to Loki's mouth, preventing any further attempt at speaking. The relief was instantaneous, and the healer gave Loki the icepack to hold for himself.

But just as he began to relax, he heard something thundering in the distance—like the gathering of a great storm. It was the sound of horses, and Loki knew without asking who was coming. The advance was far too fast and reckless through crowded city streets to be anyone else.

Thor and Loki exchanged a glance. Filled with sudden alarm, Loki lowered the icepack and said, "Don't tell him, Thor. Don't tell father what happened."

"Brother," Thor said like a sigh. "He wouldn't be riding so fast if he didn't already know."

Loki stared at him, understanding but wishing he hadn't. Thor reached for Loki's hand but found he was still clinging to the ice. Thor held onto Loki's wrist instead, standing just in front of his little brother as if to take the brunt of what was coming their way.

* * *

The boys were escorted back to the palace on horseback, with Thor seated upon an Einherjar's horse and Loki making the journey on the All-Father's.

Odin sat at his youngest son's back with one arm wrapped around Loki's middle to keep him safely atop Sleipnir. On a normal day, Loki would have been delighted by this preferential treatment, but the All-Father had yet to say a single word to him. Loki did not feel like he was in the favored position at all. Every person they passed in the streets seemed to look at him like they knew he was about to be murdered and locked away forever for his transgressions.

The trip home was much shorter when made on horseback, which prompted Loki to realize he needed to formulate a story fast. Unfortunately, his mind had gone blank. How impossible it was to lie with Heimdall, Huginn, and Muninn watching his every move. The pair of ravens flew overhead, leading the way home.

When they arrived at the palace, Frigga was waiting for them. Her expression was a mixture of concern and anger, but her ire was a far different thing than the All-Father's. She kissed Loki's tear-stained cheeks, demanded to know why he'd disobeyed his father's commands, but then hugged him close without expecting an answer.

Thor was sent to clean himself up, for both of the boys were filthy from their escape from the Southern Wall. However, Loki was brought straight to the palace healing rooms, where Frigga washed her youngest son's face with a wet cloth while they waited for the head healer to return from screening a sample of Loki's blood for toxins. As Odin watched them both in grim silence, Loki found himself wishing his father would say _something_. Even yelling would be easier to bear than the anticipation of the unknown. Loki had been punished many times before, but never had Odin refused to speak to him in this manner.

At last, the head healer emerged to give the same diagnosis he'd received at the marketplace—that Loki had not been bitten and was in no serious danger. "He'll need stitches, I'm afraid," the healer said. "Though even then, I can't promise he won't bear a scar when all is said and done."

Frigga and Odin stayed at their son's side while the healers carefully sewed the wound on his lip shut. Though they took precautions to ensure it wouldn't be painful, the procedure was still uncomfortable and traumatic. Loki tried not to cry, for his father was watching, but tears streamed down his face nevertheless. What he wouldn't give for Odin to open up his arms and hold him. To tell him everything would be all right and that he knew Loki hadn't meant for anything bad to happen. But once the stitches were finished, Odin whispered something in Frigga's ear and departed.

Loki spent that night in the healing rooms, kept there for observation at the request of the queen. Frigga slept in a chair at his side but rose to console him when he woke up from a nightmare.

"Father ordered my lips sewn shut as punishment," Loki wept against his mother's neck. "I tried to scream but couldn't open my mouth. Even if I could have managed to, no one would have been able to hear me for all the laughing. Even Thor was mocking me."

"It was just a bad dream, my love," Frigga said, rocking him back and forth. "You're only remembering the stitches."

But as much comfort as his mother's presence brought, what Loki truly wanted at that moment was his father. Frigga's love was unshakable and ever-present—and therefore, an easy thing to take for granted. Odin's affection, however, seemed very far away at that moment. Loki found himself thirsting after it like a cool drink of water, and no amount of soothing words from his mother made the ache in his throat relent in the slightest.

When Loki finally managed to fall asleep again, with his ear pressed against his mother's heartbeat and her fingers in his hair, he continued to dream about his impending punishment. He dreamt he was bound to a rock at the king's command, and a milky brown snake inched down toward him from above.

"Open your eyes, _boy_," the snake said, its venom dripping onto Loki's cheek.

When the young prince tried to scream, he found his lips were still stitched shut to silence his lies.

* * *

Loki was allowed another day to rest and recover but was summoned to the king's study at dusk. When he arrived, he found the door shut. A guard stationed outside explained that Thor was inside and Loki was commanded to wait his turn.

Awaiting this punishment had been absolute torment. Loki stood still and tried not to fidget so as not to let a lowly guard see a Prince of Asgard quaking with fear of his father's wrath. There was no shouting to be heard through the door, but there were wards woven into the wood to prevent such things. When Odin was truly angry, there was little else to do but stand in awe of the power of his lungs. Thor was no doubt receiving an earful.

Loki had spent much of the day coming up with a plan for this moment. He knew he couldn't lie to Odin, so the only other option was to downplay certain aspects and exaggerate others in the hopes of changing his father's perception of the events. But there was no telling what Thor was saying at that very moment. Odin had been clever in his decision to speak with them separately.

When Thor finally appeared in the doorway, Loki immediately asked, "What did you say to him?"

Thor looked his brother over thoroughly before replying, as if needing the reassurance that Loki was unharmed. "I told him the truth—that we were cornered and attacked."

"I asked you not to say anything," Loki hissed. "I cannot _believe_ you."

"Loki," Odin called from his study, which ended the brothers' argument before it truly began.

Loki swallowed and turned to face his fate. Though the All-Father was seated at his desk, he still seemed as large and unmovable as a stormy mountain.

"Close the door behind you," Odin said quietly.

Loki did as he was told and came to stand before his father's desk. He knew better than to sit down unless instructed. Besides, it was a simpler matter to run away if he was already on his feet. He drew in a deep breath and prepared to deliver his carefully constructed speech.

"Think twice," Odin said, "before you lie to me."

Loki faltered. "I don't understand why you're so angry."

"That would count as a lie," Odin said. "Yesterday, I gave you clear instructions that you were not to go near the Southern Wall. Do you remember your response to me? It's quite ironic, I assure you."

Loki's eyes fell from his father's face. He remembered what he'd said—that he'd _understood_ Odin's command—but Loki certainly wasn't going to admit that out loud when it negated his argument.

"Nothing bad happened," Loki said. "Whatever Thor told you was exaggerated."

"Somehow I have difficulty believing that when spoken from lips bearing stitches," Odin said. "I asked you not to lie to me, Loki, and I am quickly losing what little patience I managed to piece together overnight. I need no explanation from you as to what happened yesterday. I have a watchman who is capable of passing on an unbiased account of events, should the need present itself. I do not require your assistance in recounting what I already know. What I require is your obedience. Not only am I your father, Loki, but I am your king. Now what do you have to say for yourself? Here is a hint. It should begin with, 'I'm sorry, father. I know what I did was wrong.'"

"But if you would just _listen_, I could explain."

Odin's eye closed briefly. And then he said, "Come here."

Loki didn't budge. "Why?"

Odin got to his feet and slammed his fist on the desk. "What is it exactly that you detect in my voice that implies I will tolerate disobedience?"

It was then that Loki spotted the switch resting on the desk, which had been rattled by the movement. He looked up at his father with enormous eyes. This wasn't the first time Odin had yelled at him, but he had never struck Loki before. The young prince didn't move from where he was standing. Surely his father didn't mean to . . . .

"I see I have your attention now," Odin said as he picked up the switch. "Though still not your obedience. I'm beginning to think it a thing of myth and legend." He came around the desk and took Loki by the arm. "I will ask you one more time, Loki, and I encourage you to be forthright and humble. What do you have to say for yourself?"

Loki had gone tense, shoulders rigid, his weigh pulling against his father's grip. He fixed his gaze at an obscure point and refused to look at Odin. Loki did not want to apologize when he felt he'd done nothing to deserve _this_. It was principle.

"I wonder," Odin said. "Is this display of stubbornness truly worth the trouble it brings you? I could hardly call myself your father if I did not attempt to convince you it isn't."

_Whap_. Loki gasped when his father brought the switch down on his bottom. It wasn't particularly painful—he'd endured far worse from a wrestling bout with Thor—but that was hardly the point. Odin had _struck him_. Tears of disbelief stung the corners of Loki's eyes and soon spilled onto his cheeks.

"Did you or did you not willfully disobey my command?" Odin asked.

"Yes, father," Loki said. "But I only did it because I—"

_Whap_. "And will you do it again?"

"Why would I go back there?" Loki gasped incredulously. "They had a bloody snake!" And then he clamped a hand over his mouth when he remembered he shouldn't swear.

_Whap_. "You know very well I am asking whether or not you will disobey me in the future."

Loki gaped at the enormity of the promise. "You told me not to lie! Either way, I get hit."

Odin raised his arm to strike again but then tossed the switch down onto his desk. He knelt and gripped Loki by the upper arms, not hurting him but leaving little room to resist. "Do you think I lay down rules for no reason? You cast them aside so easily, relying on your own understanding. Disobedience has consequences, Loki, and the worst ones by far are the ones you don't have to bear yourself. Did you know Volstagg was hospitalized yesterday? What in all the Nine Realms possessed you to do such a thing? You could have killed him, and yet I have not heard you ask about him a single time."

Loki was stunned by this. He hadn't given Volstagg much thought because he assumed their voluminous friend was fine. "I didn't mean to hurt him," Loki whispered.

"Which in no way changes the fact that you _did_," Odin said. "You are such a clever boy, and yet I am repeatedly astounded at how short-sighted you can be. The consequences do not end with Volstagg's illness. Last night, I ordered a cleansing of the vagrants at the Southern Wall. Do you know what that means?"

Hot tears dripped from Loki's chin. He shook his head, too miserable to volunteer an answer.

"I will spare your young mind the sobering details. Suffice it to say, the people living there were removed, and they did not react well when they realized what was happening. A revolt broke out, which was pitifully ineffective against the might of the Einherjar. Several buildings in the marketplace were set on fire. And yes, Loki—people lost their lives."

Loki blinked at his father, scarcely understanding how people he had just seen and spoken to yesterday could be dead. It made him feel lightheaded and strange. "I didn't mean for that to happen either," he said, though he knew his father wouldn't accept that as an excuse.

"When you venture into a pack of wolves, they will strike," Odin said. "Is it just, then, to punish them for an attack you provoked through disobedience? What choice am I left with, when the princes of Asgard are threatened? To ignore such a transgression would have encouraged more boundaries to be challenged in the future. And now their deaths will fuel those who have listened to their madness in the past, making them martyrs. I have never been more disappointed in you, Loki. Yesterday you chose not to act like a son of Odin."

Loki's lips parted in dismay. The words hurt far more than the switch had.

Odin released his son and stood. "You will be confined to the nursery for the remainder of the summer. You will take meals and lessons from there and will not venture past the threshold for any reason."

"But I have my first set of trials in two weeks," Loki said.

"And yet you have demonstrated to me you are not yet mature enough to face them. Since you will be unable to take your place at the trials, you will have to wait another year."

"That's not fair!"

"Oh, I think it is. And I would encourage you to discipline your tone with me, young man, else I be tempted to extend your punishment through the autumn. Off to the nursery you go, where I do hope you will spend some time deciding if you want to remain there—or take charge of your future by growing up."

* * *

A keen sense of injustice followed Loki every step of the way to the nursery, and once he arrived, the feeling only worsened. Thor was already there and was busy gathering together his belongings and placing them into a box. There was a small pile of toys, practice weapons, and clothing on the bed by the window.

"That's mine," Loki snapped as he grabbed a book out of his brother's hand. "Where do you think you're going, _traitor_? We're grounded."

"I'm no traitor." Thor's irritation softened into something warier. "Father says I've grown too old for the nursery. He's prepared a set of chambers for me in the northern wing of the palace."

Loki straightened, absolutely floored by the news. "What are you talking about? You were punished, too—weren't you?"

"Do you really think father would confine us both to the same room as punishment?" Thor said. "All we'd do is play and wrestle and get into more trouble than we're already in."

"Well, yes, I was rather looking forward to that part." Loki felt suddenly helpless as he watched his brother do a poor job of folding a tunic. "You're not really leaving me here by myself, are you?" His throat had grown tight as he thought of sleepless nights without his brother's warmth to keep him calm when he woke from nightmares.

Thor threw the tunic in the box. "It's not like I have any choice."

"Did you tell father the part you played in our adventure? You have just as much reason to be punished as I have."

"Yes, I told him what I did and took full responsibility for it. I am the eldest, after all, and should have known better. Don't you understand?" Thor said, gesturing around the nursery and then at Loki himself. "I _am_ being punished."

Loki threw the book at Thor, which flew harmlessly past his shoulder and landed on the bed. "Well, hurry up and leave then, if being here is such a punishment."

Thor's expression of disbelief melted into hurt. It was a look Loki had never seen on his brother's face before. "That's not what I meant," Thor said. "I don't _want_ to leave the nursery. I like staying here with you."

"You're always going on about how much you want to grow up," Loki said. "Calling everything childish and beneath you. Well, congratulations, Thor. Tattling on your baby brother finally paid off."

Thor winced, looking as if he didn't understand how Loki could have leapt to such a conclusion. "Why are you being like this?"

Loki didn't offer a response and instead, set about ignoring his brother with formidable determination until Thor finally gave up and left.

But after that, the nursery grew quiet, and Loki was left with little else to do but think about what had happened. For many weeks, months, and even years after the fact, the question still rang in his thoughts: _why _was_ he like this?_

There was a reason, of course, but not the one his young mind latched onto.

Centuries later, as he paced endlessly in an Asgardian prison cell, he began to wonder if there was perhaps another explanation. One he had dismissed long ago as preposterous.

* * *

"Do you believe in curses, my queen?" Loki asked, a smile dancing in his eyes.

"I believe I can hardly keep up with the progression of your thoughts anymore," Frigga said with a sigh. "I shall make it a point to come visit you more often. It seems you have much on your mind. Why do you ask, my son?"

Indignation flashed in Loki's eyes at her continued use of that endearment, but he let it slide for the moment. "When Thor and I were attacked at the Southern Wall, the elderly woman with the snake spoke a word to us each in turn. I always found it strange that the All-Tongue didn't translate what she said."

"You were quite young," Frigga said gently. "It's understandable that you might not remember everything about the incident with perfect clarity. I recognize the meaning of the words, as should you from your years of linguistic study. _Elska_ means to love. What was the second thing she said?"

"_Angan_," Loki replied, flinching as he remembered the way the snake had stretched toward Thor's face. "The Old Norse word for joy."

"That's hardly what I would call a curse. Those are lovely expressions."

"I'm sure you're quite right. How silly of me to entertain such thoughts."

Frigga tilted her head to one side as if trying to see him better. "What is this really about, Loki? Do you truly not understand why your father's punishment for Thor was different than yours? After hearing your story, I can safely say it was the same then as it is now."

If Loki's answering smile was somewhat lacking in sincerity, it was because his defenses had slammed into place. "And how _is_ the All-Father faring these days? I thought surely he would have visited by now. To gloat, at the very least, at having finally put his enemy's son in his rightful place for good. Though I suppose it must shame him to realize I acted upon the very principles he instilled in me. I certainly can't fault the All-Father for not wanting to look in the mirror."

Frigga did not react visibly to Loki's sarcastic tirade. She studied him for a long moment before asking, "Does it help you to rage at us so? Does it ease any of the anger or bitterness in your heart, or does it merely stoke the fire into an inferno?"

"A bit of both, to be honest." Loki's smile widened. "Has it helped you to pretend you didn't lie to me from the cradle?"

As Frigga set her teacup down, the trembling porcelain betrayed the fact that her hands were shaking. "I'm not pretending, Loki. I have many regrets and have asked for your forgiveness more than once. Though you have never asked for mine, know that you have it and that I will love you forever as my child. I only want to help you find your way again—and therefore can't help but notice you evaded my earlier question about the difference between your punishment and Thor's. I'll interpret that to mean you either already know the answer or don't wish to admit it."

"Or perhaps I'm simply striving to uphold your earlier request for a pleasant visit. Isn't that what you asked for upon your arrival?" Loki's lips parted to say more, but then he reconsidered. This was a path he was not ready to journey down, and though Frigga had earned his anger, he still loved her enough to want to protect her from it. "I think perhaps it's best you take your leave."

"It's not because your father loves you any less than he loves Thor," Frigga pressed, unwilling to let him change the subject again. "Loki, it's so important that you understand that."

"Is it?" Loki moved to stand by the doorway of his cell like he was seeing a guest out of his home. "Thank you for your visit and for the tea, my queen. It was good of you to come."

Frigga was slow to rise to her feet. "If I must leave, will you at least allow me a parting embrace? It was not my intention to upset you, Loki. Forgive me."

He knew he should decline such a ridiculous request, but a long year had passed since the last time someone had sought to touch him with even an ounce of kindness. The last time had been on Midgard, when Thor had reached out to him and told him to come home. Though Loki had pretended the gesture had left him unmoved, in reality it had kindled a desire for things he had long given up on. And so he did not protest when Frigga approached and wrapped her arms around him. After all, who was Loki to judge if she wanted to show affection to a monster?

She held him for longer than was seen as proper by the Æsir, eyes squeezed shut with her face pressed against his chest, and that was how Loki came to understand that she wouldn't be able to see him again in person for a very long time. This visit had cost her something that she would not be able to pay again, and so he held her for as long as she desired, thanking her silently for whatever sacrifice she had made since he was too proud to acknowledge it out loud.

But when she at long last pulled away, Loki realized he'd made a mistake. Frigga's eyes shone with appreciative tears, as if she'd just had the first glimpse of hope that her son was not lost in two painfully long years.

"Thank you for indulging my desire to sit peacefully with you," Frigga said. "I love you. Now give your mother a kiss before I go."

Loki lifted his chin a degree. It seemed so very effortless for her to call herself that—and yet even now, she didn't seem to understand how enormously hurtful it was for him to hear. He bent his head and though he pressed his lips to her cheek, he did not bestow upon her the requested kiss.

"Perhaps I might," Loki murmured against the softness of her skin instead, "were she actually here."

* * *

To be continued

Author Notes – Oh, ouch. Sorry. I promise this story will eventually become more hopeful, but I'm afraid I enjoy exploring Loki's contradictory behavior a little too much. Though I've spent quite a bit of time in flashbacks, this story will eventually push past the point where canon ends.

I'd love to know what you think of the story if you have a moment. Thanks for stopping by to read!


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